


Looking For Heaven

by Wand_of_Thunder



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catholic Darcy Lewis, Catholicism, F/M, Inappropriate Church Behavior, Matt Murdock is a mess and could really use a hug okay?, obligatory devil/demon comparisons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 11:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wand_of_Thunder/pseuds/Wand_of_Thunder
Summary: After relationship issues, Darcy finds herself turning to her faith as a last resort.OrWho the hell tells a person they love them then escapes out the window?





	Looking For Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have other things I really should have been updating, but the Daredevil Season 3 teasers totally stomped all over my plans. Had to write this. Hopefully, you'll like it?

Darcy hadn’t stepped foot in a church in _years_ .   
  
She half expected to burst into flames the second the toe of her boot crossed the threshold, the unadulterated power of her lapsed Catholic guilt turning her to ash. It’d serve her right. These days she was collecting sins in much the same way she had collected Beanie Babies in the ‘90s; she didn’t go out of her way to obtain them, yet still somehow managed to wind up with a tub full of ‘em stashed shamefully under her bed.   
  
It wasn’t too long ago that she had promised her grandmother she’d make an effort to go mass more often. On the woman’s deathbed. Lied right to her dying face. Not maliciously and she certainly didn’t want to lie - Grams had really put her on the spot -  but she remembered enough from Sunday school to know that the Man upstairs wasn’t exactly one to split hairs. And then there were all the other, minor sins that she vaguely knew she was committing, but lacked the follow through and motivation to either care or repent for.

To put it mildly, her soul had seen cleaner days.   
  
But there was no righteous fire when Darcy stepped through the doors into the nave of the church, instead a chill licked at her skin as she found the stoup and crossed herself with the icy cool water. It was surprisingly comforting, the ritual, and she let muscle memory take over, guiding her body to the side-altar. After a quick glance around to make sure she was alone, she sighed and slid her purse off her shoulder. The heavy clunk of her specially licensed taser hitting the stone floor made her wince. Maybe she was a little too paranoid these days.   
  
All at once she felt stupid, small - once again the silly little girl that used to pretend to pray at mass because that what she was supposed to do, what was expected of her. Not because she herself believed or even felt her life worthy of any divine intervention. Darcy swallowed past the hard lump in her throat and pushed the intrusive thoughts back down. Besides, she wasn’t even there to pray for herself anyway.   
  
“Oh boy, here it goes,” she began in whisper, kneeling down on a red velvet cushion and lighting a candle at the feet of a Virgin Mary statue.  She had forgotten to get change for the donation, so she had to fold up a ten and shove it through the coin slot of the collection box. Maybe the extra bit of cash would help to erase a bit of her shoddy attendance record, she thought before clasping her hands together and bowing her head.   
  
“You’re probably surprised to hear from me… or not, I guess what with the whole omnipotent dealie. Hell, maybe you knew I’d be here before I did - Shit, shouldn’t swear. Ah no, _I mean_ , sorry ." Darcy cringed. If that was meant to ingratiate her to any higher power after all these years, she was in trouble. She crossed herself again and took a second to compose her thoughts.   
  
“Starting over, okay. Uh, I couldn’t find my rosary, but I think I remember this part.” She took a deep breath. “ _Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee._ Um, _Blessed art thou_ …” She hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek.   
  
She used to know it backwards and forwards, back when Sister Mary Katherine, brandishing a yardstick like a fencing sword, used to make her recite it in english _and latin_ every time she was late to class, which was all the time. Darcy was sure she’d grow to be 90 and senile and still have that prayer rattling around in her brain. Then again, she had sort of blocked out a lot of her Catholic school experience. It was a better coping mechanism than pickling her liver in cheap Irish whiskey like a good number of her fellow alum.   
  
“ _Blessed art thou amongst women_ ,” a rumbling whisper came from the shadowed corner behind a pillar, finishing the line.   
  
Darcy jerked, her whole body tensing. A faint taste of cooper in mouth told her she’d bitten her cheek in her surprise. Squinting in the dim lighting, she could make out a figure moving steadily towards her. Her heart was pounding and she suddenly regretted choosing to visit the old church alone at night. Her hand shot to her bag and she wondered how loud she’d have to shout to alert the elderly Father she glimpsed on her way in of any danger.   
  
The horns came into view first, oddly enough. Darcy had the briefest moment of absurd fear that an actual demon had somehow come to drag her to hell and finally got to experience first hand a taste of what the bad guys must’ve felt when he descended on them in the dark. It was actually pretty terrifying.   
  
She was grateful that she mostly only dealt with the mild-mannered, lawyer alter ego.   
  
The sight of him, whole and standing and _not dead_ was enough to jar loose the memory of the rest of the prayer. She smiled softly and finished her “Hail Mary”, Matt’s warm voice joining hers. Together, their voices sounded beautiful, almost divine, echoing ever so slightly off the stone walls of the church.   
  
“How long have you been there?” She asked, barely above a whisper, not really wanting to break the reverent silence that had fallen over them, because talking meant arguing and she would much rather live in the murky in-between time where she wasn’t mad at him and he wasn’t making excuses. Where they were still just a couple surprised to run into one another. But curiosity got the better of her.   
  
“I thought you didn’t go to church.” The question in his voice made her have to stifle a laugh. He made it sound like an accusation, like she was somehow cheating on him.   
  
“...I asked first.”   
  
Matt sighed, pulled off his gloves and scrubbed a hand over his beard. He’d clearly not shaved in days and Darcy could see a series of new cuts and bruises to his knuckles, red and angry in the candlelight, but she bit her tongue. That particular argument wasn't one she was keen on having again.   
  
“About an hour. I was surprised when you came in. Shocked really.”   
  
“You afraid I was going to burst into flames too?”   
  
He huffed out a little surprised laugh. “No, Darcy.”   
  
“Not even a little?” she pouted, stalling, wanting to savor that last bit relief and joy at seeing him well, alive, before the proverbial other shoe fell.   
  
Matt spared her an indulgent smile and shook his head, clearly rolling his unseeing eyes behind his mask. “It’s your turn. What are you doing here?”   
  
“Praying, obviously. For you…” She paused and looked up at him and frowned. Backlit like he was by the soft, yellow light of the cathedral, he looked otherworldly - again, there was a split second where she could have convinced herself that he was a demon. “You scared the hell out of me.”   
  
Half of Matt’s mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smirk. “Maybe not the best choice of words, given the venue.”   
  
Darcy wasn’t amused as that damn shoe fell hard, practically hitting her in the face with the force of her own repressed emotions. Suddenly, she couldn’t pretend anymore, couldn’t ignore the hurt anymore.“ You can’t just disappear like that ,” she whispered, the hollow ache in her chest that led her to the church in the first place resurfacing.   
  
He’d left her. One second they were fine - better than fine, they were _happy_ \- and the next she was left standing alone in the middle of her apartment with her heart in her hands, his stupid excuse bouncing off her walls and the inside of her skull for hours, days, after he was gone. A week of no calls, no texts, not knowing if he was alive or dead or _worse_ wore heavy on Darcy like a woolen blanket in the summertime - so thick and oppressive that at times she couldn’t breathe.   
  
“Darcy.” He reached for her and she let him help her to her feet, but then quickly took a step back, unconsciously putting several feet of distance between them. Matt kept his arms outstretched toward her for a moment before letting them drop limply to his sides. “I’m sorry.”   
  
She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her middle so tightly she could feel the throb of her own heartbeat in her abdomen. “You know, you say that so often I wonder if the words still hold any meaning for you.”   
  
“I guess I deserve that.” Matt moved to one of the pews and all but collapsed, his body heavy against the polished wood. She watched him take off his mask and bury his face in his hands. He took a deep breath in and held it before letting it out in a shuddering sigh. “I just - I don't know. I panicked,” he admitted with a humorless laugh, slightly muffled through his fingers.   
  
“You panicked,” Darcy repeated, sitting down next to him. She gently tugged his beat up hands away so she could see his face. He had a cut and a contusion above his left eyebrow, likely from where he'd been hit in the head so hard it split the skin, even through the mask. She wondered how he was still conscious let alone walking and talking. “I thought that was my job in this relationship.”   
  
Matt didn’t respond. He never did when Darcy brought up the high level of anxiety she constantly lived under being his girlfriend. Even when she shouted or hurled insults, no matter how unfair her words, he always sat there and took it on the chin like the glutton for punishment that he was. It never failed to take the wind out of the sails of her argument. Because no matter how many punches she threw at Matt Murdock, he’d always wind up beating himself up a thousands times worse. And wasn’t that just heartbreaking?   
  
Darcy took a deep breath and studied him; her own Saint Matthew. He was tired and raw and hurting, but he was still sitting next to her, patiently waiting for the next blow. She took his hands in her own and brought them to rest on her lap, hoping to soften the brunt of her words. “You know, I've had guys do the whole disappearing act after I dropped the L bomb, but you were the one that said it. Not me.”   
  
His mouth twitched, lips pursing. “I know, Darcy.”   
  
“You didn’t even give me a chance to respond because you were gone so fast you made my freaking head spin.”   
  
“I know, Darcy.”   
  
“Do you - do you regret saying it?” Her voice was so small that if his hearing wasn’t so finely tuned, he would have missed it. She wasn’t sure she even wanted the answer, but the question had been eating at her ever since he had told her he loved her then abruptly peaced the fuck out. Combined with the ever-present worry that the police would turn up at her door one night with either an arrest warrant or a request to identify his body at the morgue, she hadn’t slept or eaten much over the last few days.   
  
“God, no. Darce , I -” he paused, his head tilted to the side in a way that told her he was listening to something she’d never be able to hear. Then he surprised her when he slid off the pew and onto his knees in front of her. “You thought I didn’t - that’s not why I… I love you, Darcy. And if I had any sense, I’d have been telling you that everyday for a long while now. ”   
  
“Matt...” it came out in a croaking whisper. Her throat suddenly felt dry and way too tight.   
  
“Sometimes, all the time, I wonder why you’re still with me,” he admitted, his lips working into a cheerless sort of half-smile.

She knew it wouldn’t solve anything, that it would just be stalling, delaying any semblance of adult conversation that they desperately needed to have, but Darcy leaned down and kissed him then. Maybe she felt like she could suck those poisonous thoughts right out of him, like cowboys did venom from snake-bites in old western movies. Or maybe she was just plain _sick_ of the overly self-deprecating words coming out of his mouth and knew kissing him would make him shut the hell up for a minute.

Whatever the reason, it was lost on her as soon as their lips met.

He let out a surprised gasp into her mouth, but kissed her back fiercely; his beard scratching against her face as Matt surged forward on his knees and latched onto her like a man drowning. The kiss quickly turned needy and desperate and more than a little inappropriate given the location. It became less of a romantic gesture than the two of them needing visceral, tangible proof that other was _there_. It was like the only way her body could be sure that he was still alive was for her to breathe the air from his lungs and feel the pulse of his heartbeat throbbing against her own.

Matt made a noise, low and rumbling from the back of his throat, and pulled back, leaving Darcy blindly chasing his lips for more. She met his finger instead as he brought his hand up to trace the soft, warmth of her lips - his touch tender. Wistful.

She could feel it, a sort of tipping point, their relationship balancing precariously on a sharp edge, and there was sure to be pain no matter which direction they toppled. But one side meant he’d never kiss her like that again and just the thought made her heart twist and ache in her chest, so she steeled herself before giving them a shove to the opposite side, confident they would break each other’s fall. Or at least piece each other back together in the aftermath.

“I'm with you because I love you, Doofus.” She pressed a kiss to the finger on her lips, drawing the tip between them just a little. His skin tasted like salt and leather from being trapped inside his gloves.

His body went rigid, his muscles so tense she was momentarily afraid that he heard someone coming, but then he slumped forward and rested his head on her lap, his arms squeezing around her hips like he was scared someone might try to drag him away. He whispered her name into the fabric of her jeans and it somehow made her skin feel too hot and gave her goosebumps at the same time.

She softly pushed his hair back from his forehead, letting her nails scrape gently on his scalp. Slowly, she felt his body start to loosen and relax. After a while, Darcy whispered. “Is that why you left? Because you were afraid I didn’t feel the same way?”

Matt was silent for a long moment before speaking into her lap. “Actually, I think I was more afraid that you _did._ Look at what I put you through. I’m not... _worth_ spending your life constantly worrying about me. And even if I am, what if something happens? What if -” he paused and licked his lips. “What if someone finds out? What if someone comes after you because of what I do?”

Darcy rolled her eyes, marveling at the man on his knees in front of her. The man who wouldn’t even blink before rushing headfirst into a gang war or an armed robbery, but was absolutely terrified of caring for another a person. Of having someone care about _him._ It figured that she had fallen in love with such a difficult person. It went well with the theme of her life so far.

“You can’t live your life based on ‘what-ifs’ Matt. I mean, what if I get hit by a bus on my way to work on Monday, you gonna find a way to blame that on yourself too?”

Matt’s grip on her waist tightened again. “Don’t joke about that, Darcy.”

“Just making a point. Besides, you’re not the only one that was trained by a grumpy, old dude with less than 20/20 vision.” It was a least partly true; Fury hadn’t exactly trained her himself, but he had taken enough interest in her to have Maria Hill give her one-on-one self defense classes, and really, that was close enough. She sighed. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Jane when she tried to convince me to quit after our second alien invasion. Any risk, any danger that comes our way, it’s all worth it to be a part of something important. Something _I love_.”

“I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt because of me.”

She laughed, because it was either that or cry and she was sure once that dam broke there’d be no stopping the flood. “God, Matt, you’re not listening to me, are you? How can I make you realize that right now _you_ have more power to hurt me than Fisk or the Hand or anyone else ever could?”

He finally lifted his head from her lap and straightened his spine, his expression pained. “I don’t _deserve_ that power.”

“Tough,” she spat out, grabbing hold of his chin. “It’s yours, I already gave it to you. My choice.” She paused and pecked his lips softly because he was pouting and she couldn’t help herself. “So, what are you going to do with it?”

It was a challenge, though Darcy hadn’t quite intended for it to be. But it seemed to stir something deep in her boyfriend, an impulse he no longer wanted to bury. Matt responded by capturing her in another kiss, this one not desperate, but resolute. Demanding. It took her a moment to realize he was answering her question, not avoiding it. He was rising to her challenge and that made her heart swell and her head swim.

 _Finally_ , she thought as she kissed him back, meeting his sudden passion with her own and drawing him closer. She parted her legs and Matt crowded forward, taking up the space between, his middle flush against her groin. The pressure was too much, felt too good for where they were.

_Oh god._

“Matt,” she breathed, reluctantly pulling her face away. He let up, but not by much, and pressed his lips to her neck, breathing in the smell of her hair and groaning. “Matt,” she repeated with a touch more force.

He resurfaced from drinking her in, confusion furrowing his brow. “What?”

Her laugh was sharp and loud and full of humor this time. “I love you, but I’m not having sex with you in the middle of a church.”

Matt balked, like he was just realizing where they were. His hands, which had been creeping up under her T-shirt, froze and he quickly withdrew them. “I think I got a little carried away,” he admitted, sheepishly.

“Mmhm,” she nodded. Matt was still close enough that the movement caused her hair to brush against his unshaven cheek. “Oh man, can you imagine confessional? And you don’t even have your mask on. Someone could walk in any second and see that you are not only Daredevil, but also a dirty perv that molests people under God’s roof,” she said, poking a finger into his chest, her voice pitched low and soft, like a secret.

All through her babbling, Matt just smiled at her, a warm, almost incredulous smile that made her cheeks flush and her shoulders tense self-consciously. Like somehow, despite his blindness, he could still see her - _all_ of her, even the parts she labored to keep hidden behind a carefully crafted facade of irreverence and false bravado. The same parts that were hit the hardest by his abandonment, but were already crying out in relief at his renewed attention, his nearness.

Darcy squirmed, well aware that he was still kneeling between her legs. “What?” She breathed, fighting the urge to hide her face. “Why are you making that face?”

“You love me.” There was an unabashed wonderment to his voice that made tears well up in Darcy’s eyes. Never before had simple words made her feel so important and the magnitude of them threatened to overwhelm her.

“Well, duh,” she responded thickly, blinking rapidly in an attempt to keep back the waterworks. “I thought Columbia grads were supposed to be smart.”

Matt huffed out a laugh, his own eyes suspiciously glittering. “ _I’m_ an idiot. But you love me anyway.”

Rough hands framed her face and brushed away the rogue tears that had slipped past her defenses, sweeping tenderly across her cheekbones. They both leaned in for another kiss. “Say it again?” He whispered against her lips.

“ _I love you,_ ” she murmured, punctuating the words with a series of kisses, but she pulled away against his attempts to deepen the last one. Darcy swallowed her emotions and aimed for serious. “That doesn’t mean that we don’t have things to work on.”

“I know.” He kissed her again.

She pulled away again. “Or that I’m not still mad at you for ghosting on me.”

“I know.” Another kiss, this one she momentarily entertained, and it was harder to pull away from. Matt was a pro at wearing down her resolve.

“ _Or_ that we really shouldn’t be making out in church.” He froze again, wincing. Darcy took the opportunity to take a deep breath to try and calm the heated stirrings his kisses had reignited low in her belly.

“I suppose you’re right.” Matt frowned, dangerously close to pouting. But he didn’t kiss her again, and she was mildly shocked to find herself disappointed, like part of her actually _wanted_ to go all the way in a church pew, depictions of Christ, his Holy Mother and all the Saints watching. Judging.   

“I’m _always_ right, Babe. You should know that about me by now.” She patted his cheek and he laughed.

“Believe me, I do.” With a sigh and a poorly concealed groan, he got to his feet. “Would it be too much if I asked you to come home with me, Darce?”

The quiet earnestness in his voice made her smile. She reached out her hands and he hauled her to her feet again. Matt didn’t step back, so she was forced into his personal space as she stood, her chest pressing against his, and she had to grasp his shoulders to keep her balance. His warm hands found their way back to her hips and steadied her. “Of course not,” Darcy said, rocking forward onto her toes to peck his stubbled cheek. “Just give me a bit of a headstart and I’ll meet you there.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, grinning, as she dropped back down on her heels.

The weariness and exhaustion that weighed him down earlier seemed to have dissipated some; his head less heavy and his shoulders less tense, less burdened. As Darcy stepped around her boyfriend to retrieve her purse, she wondered if he could sense a matching relief in her, if he knew that seeing him, holding him had loosened the worried, caustic knots in her stomach and lifted the oppressive veil of anxiety she’d been living under.

He probably could. To Matt Murdock, everyone wore their emotions on their sleeves. At first she thought it would bother her, not being able to hide from his overpowered perception, but it rarely did. For the most part, it just made things easier. Simpler. No ceremony or pretense or pretending, and in a way that was sort of freeing.

“I’ll see you at home.” Darcy shouldered her bag and made to leave, but Matt’s unmoving form in the corner of her eye made her pause. She turned fully to find him simply standing there, a fond expression on his handsome face. From the new angle, the church’s yellow candlelight gave him a gentle, soft appearance and her heart stopped for moment as she was reminded of the story of Lucifer from Sunday school, of who he was before he lost his Grace. She couldn’t help but wonder if maybe her own devil was really just a fallen angel too.

“Darcy?” She blinked at the question in his voice and realized she must have been staring for longer than she intended. “What’s wrong?”

“S’nothing,” she murmured, turning to leave again, a small smile gracing her face. “You really should put that mask back on though or the people are all gonna find out that their city’s savior is actually just a massive dork.”

Matt brought his hands to his face, like he was feeling for the mask that was still resting behind him on the pew. “A _massive_ dork, huh?”

“If the horns fit…” Darcy called over her shoulder as she reached the exit. She paused to cross herself at the stoup on the way out, looking back again to find her boyfriend shaking his head at her.

“Ouch.” Matt failed to hide the laughter in his voice. “I love you, Darcy.”

“Ditto.”

“...did you just ‘Ghost’ me?”

Darcy snorted and pushed open the heavy oak doors to the outside, feeling the warm New York night surround her like an embrace. She took a deep breath and sighed. For the first time in a week, it didn’t feel like the city was trying to suffocate her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I promise I'm working on the next update for If It Wasn't For Bad Luck. 
> 
> I have little patience and no beta, so please forgive mistakes! I love comments and feedback if you find yourself so inclined <3<3<3


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